I left in a French steamer, that called in every port. I watched the coast. The idleness of a Passenger, my isolation amongt all these men with whom I had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform somberness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion. It was like a weary piligrimage amongst hints for nightmares.
It was more than thirty days before I saw the mouth of the big river.
We anchored off near the seat of the government. My work would not begin till some two hundred miles farther on.
I had my passage on a Little sea-going steamer. Her Captain was a Swede, and knowing me for a steamer. Her Captain was a Swede and knowing me for a seaman, invited me on the bridge. Been living there? he asked. I said yes. It is funny what some people do for a few franes a month. I wonder what becomes of them later on ? I said to him I expected to see him son.
The other day I took up a man who hanged himself on the road. He was a Swede, too. Hanged himself! Why ? I cried. Who knows?The sun was too much for him or the country perhaps
At last we opened a reach. A rocky Cliff appeared. A lot of people, mostly black and naked, moved about like ants.
There s your Company s station. I will send your things up. Farewell, said the Swede.
I found a path leading up the hill. Behind me six black men advanced in a line. They walked erect and slow, balancing small baskets full of earth on their heads. They were extremely thin, and all were connected together with a chain between them. These men could not be called either enemies or criminals. They passed me without a glance, with that complete, deathlike indifference of unhappy savages. Behind them one of the settlers, was carrying a rifle.
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